‘I’ll never speak to her again, not as long as I live, I won’t. I don’t even want to see her – not ever.’

‘Oh Kate, don’t. Please don’t say that.’ His brown eyes were dark pools of suffering. ‘We want you to come to the wedding – you must come . . .’

Kate broke into hysterical laughter. Go to their wedding? How could he be so cruel, she thought, or so stupid? Didn’t he understand what this was doing to her? Didn’t he know how she felt about him; how much she loved him and always would?

At this precise moment, she wanted to kill Rosie Maine.

Twenty-Eight

Chiefy found her, sloshing water all over the Humber and soaking her feet and legs as well.

‘Whatever’s got into you, Hilton . . .?’ he began, then, coming closer, he realized that she could hardly see what she was doing for the tears streaming down her face.

Kate felt him touch her arm. ‘Leave it, love. Come on . . .’

‘I can’t – I must finish – the car,’ she sobbed.

‘It’s okay. I’ll get one of the lads to do it. Come with me.’ There was a gentle firmness in his tone that forbade further argument. With a heavy sigh, Kate dropped the cloth into the bucket and turned away.

As they walked back towards the office, Chiefy asked gently, ‘Anything I can do to help?’

She shook her head. ‘No, no thanks. I’ll be fine,’ she replied and wondered how she could tell such a lie. She couldn’t believe she would ever be ‘fine’ again.

‘Well, go and get a lie-down in your quarters.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I can give you an hour, but no more. All right?’

Grateful for his understanding, even though he didn’t know what was causing her misery, Kate nodded.

It was almost as bad as before, she thought, as she lay flat on her back on her bed, gazing up at the rafters of the hut, when they had found they were half-brother and sister and that they could never marry.

Now Danny was going to marry Rosie. How could he? How could he do this to her, Kate? Obviously, he no longer felt the same way about her, or else he wouldn’t – couldn’t – marry someone else. And Rosie! Why, oh why did it have to be Rosie?

The hut was hot and stuffy and now she had a blinding headache. How she longed for the cool, blissful tranquillity at the end of the Spit . . .

‘What’s up with you? I thought you were out with lover-boy?’

Kate groaned as she rolled over. She had not realized she had fallen asleep. ‘Just let me die!’ she moaned.

Mavis was bending over her bed in the half-light of evening. ‘You ill, Kate?’

She laid her hand against Kate’s forehead. ‘You do feel a bit hot. Have you reported sick?’